


All We Are

by Salr323



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, Episode Tag, Episode: s07e09 The Wedding, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-28
Updated: 2009-12-28
Packaged: 2019-05-30 21:36:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15105332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salr323/pseuds/Salr323
Summary: A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of theWest Wing Fanfiction Central, a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in theannouncement post.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

And suddenly we see  
that love costs all we are  
and will ever be.  
"Touched by an Angel" - Maya Angelou

Part One

The room was washed in shades of ivory and peach, the sunlight - as if ordered just for the occasion - filtered through the long windows and danced with the dust motes, the perfume, and the flowers. It was picture perfect.  
Donna stood with the rest of the crowd, next to the aisle, and joined the collective intake of breath as the President and his daughter made their entrance. Ellie was lovely, radiant. Sublimely content, and happier than Donna could ever imagine feeling, she looked like a woman with nothing to prove, at ease with herself even amid all the pomp and circumstance she had shunned for so long. Donna felt an ungenerous pang of envy; some people, it seemed, led charmed lives…

Not that Donna had anything to complain about, not given where she'd started and where she now was. Plenty of people might considered her life charmed. But those people wouldn't know the truth of it, they wouldn't know what she'd had to sacrifice in the scramble to 'make it'. And perhaps she didn't know the truth about Ellie's life either, but nevertheless, at that moment, she-

Something caught her eye, just as the bride passed by. Donna looked across the aisle and saw Josh slipping into his seat, almost directly opposite her. He cut a saturnine figure, sharply at odds with the champagne-bubble atmosphere. Lost in thought, his eyes were turned inward, dark and bruised.

Donna couldn't look away, trying to divine from his stance - from the tension in his shoulders, the tightness in his jaw - if they'd actually done it. If they'd actually cut him loose. She'd seen them, of course, plotting in corners. Everyone had, which made it all the more humiliating for him. She'd been hearing whispers for a while now, that he wasn't up to the job - too young, too arrogant, too egotistical. And she'd heard the pundits on TV, carping about Illinois with 20:20 hindsight and nothing at stake. The armchair experts made her sick - Josh had more talent, more drive, more idealism in his little toe than any of them possessed in their bloated, over-fed bodies. But these whispering campaigns were insidious, undermining from within, like termites pulling down a mighty structure with their constant nibbling at the foundations.

"Please be seated…"

She did so, and tried to concentrate on the wedding. But it seemed a pallid affair now, and her eyes kept alighting on the grey or balding heads of the conspirators. She knew them all, some long-time enemies of Josh, others just climbing on the bandwagon, and she found herself despising them. Hating them, actually, for their disloyalty, ingratitude, and short-sightedness. If they'd replaced Josh with some no-talent party hack then…then… Then what? She'd quit? Yeah, that would show them.

She puffed out an angry sigh and glanced over at Josh. He was watching her, but quickly looked away when she caught him staring. He never looked at her anymore; it had become a feature of their current relationship. She'd noticed it almost as soon as she'd started working on the campaign. He'd look at her shoulder, at a point just past her ear, sometimes at her lips, but never at her eyes. She wondered what he was afraid of seeing there, but didn't dare ask. She was too afraid of the answer. But today, damn it, she wanted him to look at her - to tell her what had happened. So she kept staring at him, even when they stood to sing their first hymn, and he must have felt her gaze because his eyes darted toward her and away again once, twice, three times before he at last looked at her for real.

Not even pretending to sing, she lifted her eyebrows in a question and mouthed, what happened?

He stared down at his feet for a moment, and she saw his shoulders rise and fall in a sigh before he looked at her again and shrugged. Brilliant!

She shrugged back, helpless and frustrated. What the hell does that mean?

He lifted a hand and deliberately, slowly, drew a finger across his throat.

No… Her heart dropped. They'd fired him? It was impossible! "What?" The word hissed across the aisle, and turned a couple of surprised heads. She offered them an innocent smile before returning her gaze to Josh.

He was staring straight ahead, once more lost in contemplation. Donna thought her heart might break. How could they do this to him? Of all people. He'd built this up from scratch, he'd given up everything for this, worked himself ragged, and now, at the last moment, to snatch it away from him... It was just cruel. Sudden, angry tears pricked behind her eyes and she blinked them hurriedly away. She never cried at weddings, and wasn't about to start.

Toward the front of the congregation she caught sight of Congressman Santos, his dark hair stark against the preponderance of grey. She had a sudden urge to stand on her chair and start yelling traitor! at the top of her voice. If it wasn't for Josh he'd be back in Houston, sitting on the local school board, instead of here, with a realistic shot at the White House. How could he even consider firing Josh? What did that say about his integrity as a man, as a politician - as a leader?

She twisted the ivory order of service tightly in her hands, her stomach feeling pretty much the same.

Maybe she would quit after all. Not to prove anything - it's not like anyone cared what she did - but, in all honesty, how could she keep campaigning for this man? She wasn't even sure she could even vote for him! If he was prepared to cut Josh loose, just because the going got a little tough, then-

A small ball of paper hit her hands, bounced off and landed on the floor. She looked over at Josh, who nodded to the floor at her feet. Well, this was typical. Trying not to look too obvious, she leaned down and snatched up the paper. It was the back cover of the order of service, on which he'd scrawled,

You look like you're about to un-spool. It's okay, Leo stepped in. I still have a job, much to everyone's disappointment.

Her sharp relief was tempered by a still smouldering anger. Much to everyone's disappointment… Yeah, I bet. Looking up, she smiled at him, but Josh just shrugged and turned his attention back to the wedding. It was an empty victory, she knew. The only thing keeping him in place was Leo running interference; she knew how he'd take that. Leo was his mentor, the man he respected above all others - the President included - and if he felt that he'd let Leo down, or that Leo was having to protect him, then he'd feel like he'd failed.

And Josh hated failing. It ate at him, body and soul. She'd seen it before, seen it shatter his confidence so deeply that she wasn't entirely sure he'd ever recovered. People said he was arrogant, but he wasn't. Not really. If he bullied and hammered people into submission it was because, deep down, he was terrified of failing. Of being seen to fail…

She felt cold suddenly, her mind's eye picturing the TV coverage, the newspaper op-eds. Thank goodness for Leo; at least he still had one friend in high places. And Leo, better than anyone, understood Josh. And loved him, Donna believed. Leo would protect him.

The rest of the ceremony passed slowly. Her chair felt uncomfortable, the air stifling. She wanted to get out, move and breathe. Mostly she wanted to talk to Josh, to find out in detail what had happened. But he didn't look in her direction once for the rest of the wedding, not even when the vows were exchanged. Stupid, idle fantasy, she knew, but she'd held out half a hope that their eyes would meet across a crowded room and -

Yeah, right. Their eyes never met anymore, they hardly even spoke. Not like they used to, in his office, over breakfast, or dinner or… She sighed at the familiar regrets; there, right there, was the biggest thing she'd sacrificed on her meteoric rise through the ranks. His friendship.

At the time she'd thrown it away, happy to be rid of something that seemed to cause more pain than pleasure, but now - with the benefit of almost a year between them - she understood its value better. To be of consequence to a man like Josh… It was something, it was quite something.

Fortunately her maudlin thoughts were shattered by the triumphant fanfare of a quartet of…trumpets? Bugles? Something loud that made her jump. Everyone was on their feet, smiling, clapping, trying to get a good view as Ellie and her new husband walked beaming down the aisle, the President and First Lady in tow. The other dignitaries followed suit, and soon there was a general hubbub filling the room to bursting. She could still see Josh on the other side of the aisle, saw him nod at the President, smile for the bride. And then someone looking royal and important passed her by - were those real diamonds on that tiara? - and when she looked back he was gone.

She stood on tip-toe to see over the heads of a dozen foreign dignitaries, but every tux looked the same and she knew he'd slipped away. Damn!

Folding his crumpled note neatly in half she slipped it into her purse and tried to decide what to do next. Josh needed a friend, and whether he liked it or not, she was going to be it.

***

The music sounded like knives being sharpened, the scrape, scrape, scrape of violins like a whetstone on the silver blade of a dagger. Josh hated it. He hated the crowds, the smiles, and the quiet whispers behind his back.

He hated knowing they were right.

He'd been up all night, worrying at the numbers, trying to make it work -second guessing himself at every turn - and he felt stretched thin. Six weeks out, and everything to play for, he knew he could have cost them the election. His mistake, his misjudgement. And whatever Leo said, Josh wasn't convinced that the mistake had been unavoidable. He knew he'd been off his game, distracted. For months now, if he was honest with himself.

He should be sharper, he should be better than this. He was better than this, or he had been. Fact was, he was losing his edge - along with his hair. Maybe he was just getting old? Burned out. He'd lost something, that was for sure. He just couldn't quite put his finger on what…

"Hey, you." He broke out of his dour reverie and saw CJ, like a vision from his glory days, holding out a champagne glass. "You might as well have this, I can't."

He took it and offered a slight smile in return. "Why not? Global crisis or baby on the way?"

CJ didn't answer, just fixed him with a killer look. "Your schoolboy 'humour' - and I use the term loosely - doesn't fool me, Joshua Lyman. I could see the dark clouds hovering from the other side of the room."

"So you took pity on the leper at the feast?"

"Wow, we are feeling sorry for ourself, aren't we?"

He didn't answer, but knocked back a good half of the champagne. It tasted bitter.

"Donna was looking for you earlier," CJ said, fixing him with a look that he couldn't decipher. It was somewhere between a smirk and a question.

"I'm avoiding her," he replied, draining his glass and wishing he had a second. Right now drunken oblivion had a certain appeal.

CJ raised an eyebrow and leaned against the wall. "I have world war three about to blow up in my face," she said, "but for some reason, known only to God himself, I'm going to ask you why."

He looked away, out through the ridiculously happy crowd of dignitaries, and feigned ignorance. "Why what?"

"Why are you avoiding Donna?"

"Does it matter?" The question crested a nervous laugh that he didn't really feel.

There was a short pause. CJ shifted - shiftily, he thought - and said, "Let's just say I have a personal interest."

His eyebrows rose. "In…Donna?"

"Oh for the love of God, Joshua!" She poked him hard on the arm, almost knocking him off balance. "In the situation."

He could feel the tension curling inside, unnamed and unnameable. He tried to ignore it. "What situation?"

"Are you a complete idiot?"

His slight humour evaporated. "Apparently so, if you ask half the people in this room."

"Don't be stupid."

"That too."

"No one thinks you're-"

"Oh come on!" he snapped, pacing half a step away from her and back again. "They want to replace me, CJ! No one thinks I'm up to the job, and if Leo hadn't- They're just waiting for me to fall flat on my face so they can laugh and point."

CJ folded her arms and skewered him with a gaze that pinned him to the wall. "You think I don't know what that's like? You think that when I took over from Leo - from Leo McGarry! - that everyone wasn't waiting for me to fall flat on my face, waiting to laugh and point? You think I don't know what it's like to do a job that's so impossibly vast that you feel like you're drowning in it?"

He blew out a contrite sigh, glanced at her angry, concerned face, and felt like an idiot all over again. "Yeah. Yeah, sorry. It's just-"

"You don't do well on your own, huh?"

"Not so much."

She took a deep breath. "Which brings me back to my original question."

If he let his mind go blank, Josh knew, the whole thing would just slip away. He'd learned that, over the years. You could just let some things go, like melting ice, if you just refused to acknowledge their existence. He suspected the various Stanleys in his life would have had something to say about that, but decided to let that thought slip away too.

"Josh?"

"Huh?"

"Why are you avoiding Donna?"

He shook his head, snorting a quiet laugh. "I was joking. I'm not really avoiding-"

"Oh please," CJ said, but it was gentle and lacked any irritation. "You're still mad at her for leaving?"

That knot of tension in his stomach threatened to turn into an ulcer. On the other side of the room he could see Leo talking to Tripplehorn and Josh felt suddenly nauseous. "I…have to get back to headquarters," he said abruptly. "Work on these numbers some more and-"

"Josh?" Her hand was on his arm, strong and unyielding. "Don't blame her."

"I don't."

"If it had been up to her…" CJ paused. She looked like she was on the point of a confession and, edging a little closer, said, "I may have…possibly…suggested that she leave."

Josh felt the breath die in his chest. "You…did what?"

"I pointed out a few home truths," CJ said, her bright eyes quietly defiant. "And I don't regret that, but…"

"You told her to leave me?" He couldn't get past that, somehow.

"Oh, don't look at me like I just stuck a knife in your back!" CJ protested. "She was going nowhere, wasting her talent. Look at her now - look what she's done in just one year."

One year away from you. "Yeah," he said, dropping her gaze and letting his own turn inward. Truth was, he didn't want to look at Donna now. It was like gazing into the sun, too dazzling and ultimately damaging. Without him she'd soared like a caged bird freed. Funny, he thought distractedly, that CJ had opened the door and he hadn't even known.

"Josh?"

He couldn't talk about this now, not with his most recent screw-up stuck in his throat. He could only swallow his failures one at a time. "I really have to go-"

"You think she got this good from eight months on the Russell campaign?" CJ said, talking over him. "Look at her, Josh. You made her what she is."

"Yeah?" He slid her a sideways look. "Not according to Donna."

CJ seemed surprised. "Did she say that?"

"Yeah. Something like that. Something about a short-order cook and a…spatula."

CJ's sculpted eyebrows rose. "A spatula?"

He just shrugged. "It's…Donna."

"You should-" Her purse started to bleep, and reading her page she winced. "I have to…" She nodded in the general direction of the Oval office.

"World war three?"

"Or worse. Listen, Josh?" She was already walking, and grabbed his arm to pull him along. "There's something you need to know."

Holy crap! "About world w-"

She smacked him lightly on the arm. "About Donna! About why she left."

"I think I know everything I want to about-"

"Would you just shut up and listen for ten seconds?"

Clamping his jaw shut he said no more as she pulled him out of the room and into the cool quiet of the corridors beyond. He was aware of the secret service lurking in the shadows, muttering into their headsets, and guessed the President was on the move too. "Listen," CJ said, talking fast - like a briefing - "I may have misjudged the situation a little. I may have… I may have misrepresented your motives to Donna."

"What motives? What are you talking about?"

They were at the stairs now, heading down to the sit room. "I may have suggested that the reason you hamstrung all her opportunities for advancement was because you knew you'd never find an assistant as good. Because, at the time, I didn't realise, you know, the other thing."

He just stared at her, at a loss. "I actually have no idea what you're talking about."

The President was up ahead, just entering the sit room, a flood of suits passing them on either side. "Okay, I have no time for subtly Josh," CJ said, slowing her pace but keeping one eye on the open door ahead. "I apologise if this is blunt, but world war three is about to break out and if I don't tell you now I might never have the chance."

"If you're about to declare your undying-"

"Josh!"

He shut up.

"When I spoke to Donna," CJ said, "I thought she'd stayed in the job because she had a crush on you, and that you kept her around because it was convenient."

A crush? On him? Donna? He felt himself smiling for the first time all evening. "Really? She-"

"Stop talking!"

They were at the door now, and Josh could see the great and the good assemble inside. It was a struggle to tamp down a fierce desire to jump in and join the action. To just be back in the middle of all this.

"Josh?" CJ demanded his attention with a quiet voice that cracked like a whip.

"Yeah?"

"It wasn't until she was hurt, in Gaza, that I realised I was wrong."

"About what?"

For a moment her commanding features softened into a beat of affection. "You love her, Josh, and you should tell her."

He felt his jaw hit the floor, the denial instant and unthinking. "I don't…"

But CJ was already gone, and the sit room door was shut in his face. The only person left in the corridor was a six-foot-something quarterback, wired for sound and gazing at Josh with polite disdain. Josh offered a smile. "I was just… Yeah. Leaving."

He turned on his heel and began to walk slowly back the way they'd come. He didn't love Donna, that was ridiculous. Except that unnameable tension in his stomach was churning in recognition, that hollow patch in his chest was echoing with the word, and the greyness in his mind was suddenly flooded with a piercing light.

I love Donna?

I love her?

Nah. It was ridiculous. It was impossible. Literally impossible, because she'd left him - twice - and he'd be nine kinds of fool to let someone with that track record come within striking distance of what passed for his heart.

He didn't love Donna Moss. He couldn't.

He wouldn't.

***

Donna had just about given up her search, figuring Josh had bolted back to headquarters. She was trying to decide whether to just follow, or whether to call ahead and see if he was there first, when inspiration struck like proverbial lightening. And suddenly she knew where he was.

That's how it happened sometimes, with Josh. Less so now, but back when they'd been at their best she'd always known where he was. It had been like a sixth sense; she'd joked about being tuned to him, but it had only been half exaggeration. And now she could feel that insistent tug in the corner of her mind that told her she was, without doubt, right.

She didn't act on it immediately, wasn't sure if he'd want to be disturbed. Actually, she was fairly sure he wouldn't. He'd be sitting there, brooding, replaying everything over and over and trying to figure out where he'd gone wrong. Then he'd be trying to work out how to fix it with some cockamamie plan that involved two-dozen impossible hoops and, quite possibly, time travel.

She meandered as she thought, slipping between groups of partygoers, skirting wide around Congressman Santos because she was afraid that, right now, she'd have a hard time being polite, and eventually found her way to the door she needed. With a final glance at the spectacle, she left the room without regret and entered the deserted halls of the West Wing.

It felt so strange to be back, it always did. This had been her home for almost six years, she'd practically lived here. And it was still the same, the same postcards tacked above the desks, the same notices about not putting staples in the shredder and instructions for getting the Xerox machine to collate properly. It was all exactly the same, except for the fact that she felt so different. She felt taller, somehow, looking down on these desks that had been her domain for so long. And she knew she'd outgrown it, as wonderful as it had been, this was no longer home. It was a sad thought, and yet exciting; poignant to the point of pain as she approached her own desk and found it the only different thing in the room.

She slowed, her heart beginning to race with nostalgia and something else. Hope, expectation? She wasn't sure. But she could see the light of the desk lamp spilling from Josh's old office and knew that he was in there. For a moment she froze, trapped in an instant of time that seemed to stretch backward and forward all at once. It was her first day, every day she'd spent there with him, and her last day, walking out of the office for good. It all telescoped down into that single moment, standing in the silent bullpen looking at the soft arc of light in the doorway of his office.

It was almost too much, she almost walked away. But like a fish on a lure she was pulled back, inexorably, until her hand came to rest on the doorjamb and she turned into his office.

Josh didn't notice her at first. He was sitting behind his desk, lounged back in his chair, fingers steepled, and lost in thought. Brooding. Donna said nothing, just leaned her shoulder against the door and watched. In the lamplight he looked just as he always had, focused, driven, anxious - like he had the weight of the world resting on his shoulders. And perhaps he did; in his mind he did. Josh Lyman was quite capable of holding himself entirely responsible for the result of the election, and hence the fate of the country, and the free world beyond that.

No surprise he wasn't sleeping. And he wasn't sleeping, she could tell from the shadows in his eyes. At length, when it seemed he'd never rouse from his contemplation, Donna found her voice. "Do you need anything?"

His attention snapped to her, and for an instant she saw a flash of intense pain in his eyes. It was gone as soon as it arrived, replaced by a determined frown. "Run out of wantons?"

"I'm wantoned out," she said, easing into the room. It looked different now, someone else's clutter on the desk, Josh's photos gone from the walls. Yet it was still acutely familiar, and the profound sense of nostalgia it provoked was shocking. She hadn't expected to feel so much. "This is strange," she said, looking around, running her hand over the shelves she knew so well.

Josh said nothing, but his gaze dipped to the desk and stayed there. "What do you want, Donna?"

Defensive. Hurting, that much she could see. Carefully, not giving him an excuse to storm off, she perched on the visitor's chair and said, "What happened tonight?"

"What do you think?"

"I don't know what to think. I've heard rumours."

He quirked a humourless smile. "Are they saying Santos fired me?"

Santos? Not 'the Congressman'? She felt a sick twist of rage in her stomach. "Some are, some aren't," she answered, although mostly it was the former. "So…did he?"

Josh laughed, grimly. "No. He sent Leo to do it."

She just stared for a long moment, disbelief pounding in her ears. Eventually she scratched out, "Leo?"

"Yeah," he laughed again, abruptly sitting forward in the chair, arms on the desk and looking at her for the first time since she'd walked through the door. "Can you believe that?"

Donna shook her head, too shocked to know what to say. "Josh…" It came out more like a plea. "Did he…? Were you…?"

"No." He shook his head, then scrubbed his hands over his face. "No, Leo didn't do it. He said-" A dark smile touched his lips. "While he's got a job, I got a job, I guess."

Donna cocked her head. "You think he felt sorry for you?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Want to know what I think?"

Josh glanced up, his smile a fraction warmer than bleak. "Do I have a choice?"

"I think Leo knows exactly how good you are, and that Matt Santos is a panty-waist who's too scared to do his own dirty work."

Josh's smiled twisted into a full-blown smirk. "A…panty-waist?"

Donna folded her arms in defiance. "Yes."

"What the hell is a panty-waist?"

She blinked. "What?"

"Is that some kind of obscure Wisconsin insult? Or unique to the Moss family?"

"It's not obscure, everyone says it."

"No one says it."

"I say it all the time!"

He laughed, and it actually sounded like he meant it. "You have never said that! Believe me, if you had I'd have…mocked you. A lot."

"That," she said, "I can believe."

He smiled again, but it dissolved into a sigh and his gaze began to drift around the office. Melancholy, Donna thought. He looked melancholy.

"Do you miss it?" she asked quietly. "The White House?"

He nodded slowly, eyes fixed on the door out to the bullpen. "Everyday."

His accidental choice of word made her heart stutter. "Me too," she said, feeling herself unexpectedly choke-up. She tried to laugh it off, but knew her smile was watery.

Josh stared at her, like a rabbit caught in headlights. After a long, painful silence he said, "Really?"

The genuine disbelief in his voice twisted Donna's heart. "Of course," she said shakily. "What did you think?"

He blinked, taut as an over-wound spring. "I think that you…left."

"I didn't leave because-"

Josh pushed to his feet so fast his chair knocked into the wall behind the desk, and the sound made Donna jump. "Let's not do this," he said abruptly, skirting around the desk and heading for the door.

"Josh!"

He stopped, shoulders rigid with tension. "Donna…" He didn't turn around. "I'm really not- I can't handle another round of 'crappiest boss of the year' okay? Not right now."

"I don't want to do that either," she said, and meant it for possibly the first time since she'd left. "I want to…" She sighed, walking to stand in front of him and blocking his route to the door. "Remember when I left the first time?"

He blinked, and looked like he wanted to run. Or climb a wall. Anything to escape. "The first time?"

"On the campaign."

"Oh. Yeah."

"And remember what happened next?"

"I don't know-"

"I came back, Josh." She offered him a tentative smile. "I came back because you'd offered me the chance to live a life so much bigger than the one I was leading. And I knew I'd been stupid to throw it away."

"What's your point?" He grated the words out, as if he was barely breathing.

"My point," she said, taking a step closer, "is that I came back."

Josh shook his head and made a move to get past her. "Donna, I have work to-"

She grabbed his arm and stopped him again, but he had his back to her now and didn't turn around. "I came back this time too," she said, more urgently. "Don't you get it?"

"You didn't come back Donna," he said, unable to hide the bitterness in his voice, "you got a new job, that's all. You're building your résumé."

She let go of his arm and watched it drop to his side. "You think I wasn't offered half a dozen jobs after the Russell campaign?" she asked. "Better paying too, some of them."

He turned, enough that she could see his face in profile. "Then why…?"

"Because I wanted to work for the real thing."

His mouth twisted into another sour smile. "Yeah? Well, after tonight I've got my doubts about Matthew Santos."

Donna let the silence ride for a long beat, and then quietly said, "I wasn't talking about Matthew Santos."

A subtle shiver danced across his features, his mouth opened as if he were about to talk. Slowly, cautiously, he turned toward her. "You mean…me?"

Her smile broke out like sunshine. "Josh," she sighed, awash with affection. "Joshua, Joshua…" He didn't say anything, at least not in words, but his eyes were suddenly so intense she could barely meet his gaze. "You know your problem?" she said, taking a step closer, right into his space. He didn't back away, but he did swallow. Hard. "You never think things all the way through, Josh."

Eyebrows rising he squeaked, "I don't?"

"Didn't you ever consider the…advantages of me leaving?"

He shook his head, suddenly guileless. "There were advantages?"

Donna felt like she was skating out too far on the lake and had no idea if the ice was about to crack beneath her feet. But she couldn't help herself, the thrill kept her moving relentlessly forward. She smiled, although her fingers trembled as she lifted them and tugged on the ends of his bowtie. "Like, for example, now I can do this…" The silk slipped undone and she dropped the ends against his chest. Keeping her eyes fixed downward, her heart hammering an uneven beat, she reached for the button at his throat and began to undo it. "And this…"

"Why would you-" Josh coughed and the squeak transformed into a husky growl. "Why would you want to do that?"

Slowly she lifted her eyes to his. "Why do you think?"

"I don't know, I-"

She didn't give him time to finish, instead closing the distance between them with a kiss that had been brewing for eight aching years. It exploded like an armoury of fireworks, burning bright and intense for a long, glorious moment until, abruptly, he pulled away and staggered backward. "I can't-" He gasped, staring at her in absolute panic. Utterly lost. "I- I'm sorry."

And then he was gone, bolting from the room, and leaving Donna in pieces in his wake.


	2. All We Are

Iowa. If they moved the money from Iowa to Illinois then maybe he wouldn't have to remember the way her lips had been so soft and sweet against his, how she'd melted into him and for a split second he'd felt whole and complete and alive and-

Illinois. Twenty-one electoral votes. It was worth the risk for Illinois, and he should have known that three months ago, but he hadn't because when he'd walked into work that morning and seen someone else at her desk he'd felt her betrayal like a knife in his chest and the pain never went away, it never, ever went away because-

Damn it. His hands were shaking, making the crumpled map dance in front of his eyes. He had the nauseous sensation of his entire reality canting to one side, his professional and personal life colliding like panicked passengers on the Titanic. And he couldn't handle it, he couldn't possibly handle it all at once - there was no room in his head to think about it all. He had to ration, he had to think about the campaign because that was the most important thing in his life and he couldn't afford the distraction.

That's why he'd backed off, because to go further - to risk everything - would only have distracted him. The job came first, it always came first. And he could ignore the way the warmth in her eyes had shattered into shards of pain, because it was all in the name of the party, and the country, and-

"Josh?"

He glanced up from the map to see Leo standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at him with a frown of irritation. "Hey," he said, hoping he sounded normal. Hoping the dust devil whirling through his mind wasn't too obviously on display.

Leo nodded toward the map. "I thought I told you to put that away until tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I was just-"

"Decision's made, Josh. Come enjoy the party - a little relaxation will do you good."

He looked over at the doorway leading back toward the wedding and caught a glimpse of Santos, smiling expansively at someone. Better be someone willing to donate, Josh thought bitterly. "I'm not really in the mood," he said to Leo, slipping the map back into his pocket and hauling himself to his feet. "Think I'll head back to the office and-"

"You gotta give yourself a break, Josh," Leo said. "I'm serious. I've see this before, you'll burn out if you keep pushing yourself like this."

"It's just another six weeks, and there's no one else who-"

Leo shook his head and stepped aside as Josh came down to join him. "Six weeks is a long time without sleep, Josh. Take it from someone who knows. And you have staff. Use them."

"To do what? Half of them would jump ship at the first sign of trouble, just walk out and quit without even a thank-you or a goodbye or-" He stopped, cleared his throat, and found he had nothing else to say.

Leo was watching him shrewdly, as if he were reading entirely between the lines. But all he said was, "You're gonna have to learn to trust them, Josh, because when we get into office the Congressman will lean on you ten times harder than President Bartlet ever leant on me."

Josh laughed. "You think he'd make me Chief of Staff? He wouldn't."

"There's no one else."

"He wants to replace me."

"Forget that," Leo said with an irritated wave of the hand. "It's over. Deal with what's next."

"What's next? What's next is six weeks of hell, followed by the end of my career!"

"Josh…"

"Seriously, you still think we can win?"

"I think we're gonna damn well try."

Josh shook his head, feeling nothing but the crushing weight of responsibility tightening around his chest. "I should never have tried this," he said grimly. "I'm not up to it. There's…there's just something missing. I should never have left the White House. I should have let Russell take the nomination and-"

"Are you kidding? Vinick would have wiped the floor with Russell on day one. End of story."

"Yeah," Josh sighed, "but that wouldn't have been my fault."

Leo gave him a flat look. "Your fault? You're an influential player, Josh, but you're not God. You didn't make this happen by yourself. You didn't tie-up the nomination by yourself, and you didn't cast every vote in the primary!"

"You know what I mean…"

"I know you, and I know you think you're responsible for everything and everyone that crosses your path, but this is a whole lot bigger than even you, Josh. A whole lot bigger."

It was a relief to hear it, even if he didn't entirely believe it. He offered a half-hearted smile and Leo clapped him on the shoulder in return.

"You need to get some sleep, and some perspective, Josh."

"Yeah," he conceded, "I guess…"

"And you need to fix whatever's been driving you crazy these past few months."

Josh blinked. "Aside from…the campaign?"

"You know what I mean," Leo said, taking his arm and angling them both back toward the party.

"I really don't."

"You want me to spell it out?" Leo said, pausing on the threshold. When Josh didn't answer, Leo nodded toward the double doors at the end of the corridor. "I saw Donna leave about a half hour ago. She looked pretty upset."

Suddenly Josh was staring at the toes of his shoes and wondering when was the last time he'd gotten them polished. "Upset?" he managed to ask in a voice that wasn't entirely his own. He could still see the hurt in her eyes, the way her whole face had seemed to fracture, as if he'd struck her. Worse, he could still feel that split second of cold pleasure at the sight of her pain. Vengeance - it sickened him.

"I made it my business not to look too closely at what went on between you two," Leo was saying. "But when my deputy drops everything to spend a week at the bedside of his assistant - half way across the world - it's pretty hard to ignore."

"There's nothing going on, I-"

"I never had a son, Josh," Leo continued, ignoring his lame protestations, "and God knows daughters never listen to their father's advice. At least, mine didn't. So let me give you the benefit of my wisdom, such as it is."

Josh shook his head, squirming. "Leo, I-"

"Just listen, will you?" He settled himself against the doorframe and carried on. "The night Jenny left-"

"Leo…"

"The night Jenny left, I told her that the job was more important than our marriage. I believed it." He gave a short shake of his head, as if he couldn't quite believe himself. "Over the past few months I've had some time to think, and I've started to see things differently. These jobs, Josh, they take their toll. Physically, emotionally, psychologically. But it's because we let them, because we lose sight of our priorities."

Josh glanced up, not sure he wanted to know where this was heading. "You're saying what? We should work less? That's impossible."

"Maybe," Leo shrugged. "But there are other things in life, Josh, and you can't just ignore them. And that's from the guy who lives alone in a hotel and spends his nights working because he's got nothing better to do."

"Leo, you're the most respected-"

"Doesn't matter," Leo insisted with a smile. "None of it. When you're alone in that hospital bed, none of this matters. I'll tell you what does matter, though - Mal, my friends. The people I care about. That's all that matters, Josh."

He was silent for a moment, uncomfortable in his own skin. He didn't talk about this stuff, and yet somehow he found himself saying, "The…thing with Donna? It's not- It's not a time thing. It's not about making time."

Leo nodded. "I know. You pissed her off, she left you, and you're afraid she'll do it again."

His words, pinpoint accurate, knocked Josh completely off-balance. "I- She- Twice!" he stuttered at last. "She left twice."

"And did you go after her? Apologise? Ask her to come back?"

Sheepish under Leo's piercing gaze he shook his head. "No."

"You don't just let people walk away, Josh. Not because they pissed you off, or because you're too scared to go after them."

"I'm not scared," he protested, although the machismo rang false. The thought of living that moment again - that bright moment of exquisite pain - terrified him. He couldn't let her leave him again, he couldn't open himself up to that.

Leo shook his head, gently exasperated. "I've known you since you were six years old, Josh. You think I don't see it? You think I didn't see it the day she left and you were so crazy you jumped on the first flight to Houston because you couldn't stand to be here without her?"

"I didn't," he protested, laughing nervously. "I didn't do that. That's not why-"

"You said it yourself," Leo interrupted. "You said you felt like something was missing. It never occurred to you that the something was a someone?"

"No…" Because that made him weak. It made him pathetically dependant on another person, a person who - it transpired - wouldn't even stay with him when she was paid to! Why would she ever stay of her own free will?

Leo sighed, studying him for a long moment. "One shot, Josh. That's all you get. This thing you're feeling?" He waved vaguely toward Josh's chest. "You don't take it for granted. You don't take these women for granted, you grab hold, with both hands, and you don't let go." He gave a dry smile. "Even when they scare the hell outa you."

The white noise of the party almost drowned Leo's words. Or perhaps it was the white noise of denial. One shot… Suddenly Josh could see his life stretching ahead, a long path narrowly defined between high canyon walls - work on one side, achievement on the other. But there was nothing at the end, nothing but an empty apartment and lonely nights.

And suddenly, like a fist punching the air from his lungs, he wanted to see her face. He wanted to see her smile - the one that burst like sunshine from behind a cloud and lit up the room. He wanted to see her smile at him - for him - like she used to. "The thing is," he said, his voice strangely breathless, "I'll only screw it up again."

"Says who?"

He smiled, an acerbic twist of his lips. "Isn't the definition of insanity repeating the same mistake over and over and expecting a different result?"

Leo shrugged and stepped through the door, back into the party. He turned at the last moment. "Then I guess," he said, "you have to figure out whether this is the same mistake, or whether it's something else entirely."

Josh didn't answer, just watched as Leo was swallowed up by the noise and the politely drunken gaiety that clashed in his head like an incipient migraine. He had a sudden need to be outside in the early fall evening, to breathe in the crisp air and-

She looked up with wide, serious eyes. "I think I can be good at this. I think you might find me valuable…" He was smitten, right there and then. She was so real. There was no artifice in her, no positioning for the next campaign, no pompous Poli-Sci bullshit. She was just so adorably real.

Shaking off the flash of memory, Josh glanced once more at the power and prestige assembled in the room beyond. They looked drab and ordinary to his eyes tonight, the glitz and importance nothing more than dull pomp and tedious politicking. He wondered that this used to be enough for him.

And maybe it hadn't. Maybe Leo was right after all. Losing Donna had cost him his edge, because without her none of it meant anything. Win or loose the election, who cared? Without her to share the victory, it was just work.

Without her to share his life, it was just surviving.

Suddenly he knew he had to find her. Tonight. Right now. And, just like he knew exactly where his right arm was, he knew, he just knew, where she would be…

***

The early October night was cold, and the gauzy wrap she'd brought to take the edge off between the car and the White House did nothing to keep her from shivering as she sat on the bench and stared out across the floodlit Mall. It was still early enough for the place to be thronging with tourists, the pretzel stands were still open, and there was almost enough noise and chatter in the air to block out the buzz inside her head.

Almost, but not quite.

The cold breeze helped though, cutting through her thin clothes and blowing away the mental fog. She still wasn't entirely sure what had happened, how she'd gotten so brazen, and how she'd so misjudged him. Or misjudged the situation. She wasn't sure, because for a second there it had felt absolutely perfect. He'd responded exactly as she'd always known he would; an idiosyncratic mixture of caution, intensity, and abandon. But then he'd broken away, stared at her as if she terrified him, and fled.

As far as first kisses went it was, almost certainly, her worst performance.

The wide-eyed innocent inside her, the Donna who had worshiped him from afar for eight long years, was heartbroken, mortified to have been rejected so ruthlessly. But these days that was only a small part of Donnatella Moss. The rest of her had lost the rose-tinted glasses long ago. When, she wasn't sure, but she thought they'd started fading in the months after Roslyn. No glamour there, and idolization had soon started to grow into something stronger, with deeper roots.

Deep enough that, despite the distance that had grown between them over the past months, she should have known better than to have tried this tonight. Of all nights! He'd needed a friend, and she'd offered him something else entirely. What had she been thinking?

Letting her gaze drift out across the Mall toward the illuminated monuments, her attention was caught by the Lincoln Memorial in the distance. Godlike in his temple, she wondered if he'd had staff with such painfully human problems as her own.

Surrounded by so much power - so much importance - it was hard to take the time to think these things through. Perhaps that had been the problem over the past eight years. When you're trying to run the country, or even assist someone who's trying to run the country, petty concerns of the heart seem too trivial to warrant any serious attention. And, for a while, you can live with that. The job becomes your life, your love, your reason for existing, and it's so big that you don't realise it's pushing everything else out. Eventually though, as the years march on, you begin to realise that your life is barren and that those little niggling personal matters have taken root elsewhere and grown into big, thorny problems that squeeze your heart each time you take a breath.

But by then it's too late.

Eight years was so long, and the past year the longest of them all. So much had changed, between them and within themselves - perhaps that ship had long ago sailed and she just hadn't noticed? Perhaps that brief flash of perfection had been the last flicker of a dying fire, lacking enough fuel to burn longer? Perhaps-

"You shouldn't be out here on your own." Her heart thumping, she looked up and saw Josh standing a few feet away, hands deep in his pockets, watching her intently. He offered a small, experimental smile. "Hey."

"Hey," she replied, but the heat of the fractured kiss they'd shared turned her cheeks pink and she had to look away, back out across the Mall.

He didn't move, and after a moment said, "Can I sit down?"

"It's a public bench," she pointed out, half-regretting the barb in her voice. And half not.

There was no snappy come-back, instead he just came and perched on the edge of the seat as far away from her as possible. She smiled bleakly and wondered if he was afraid she was going to jump him. The silence stretched between them, long and paper-thin. An apology lurked on her lips, but she didn't want to say it - it felt too much like defeat, and she had some pride left. At length he spoke, his voice quiet and serious and not really at all like his own. "Remember that night we came out here? You, me, Toby and Sam? It was… I think it was just after the election, the first time, and DC was still new to you and you wanted to see the sights."

Out the corner of her eye she saw him turn and found her own gaze irresistibly drawn to his. "Yeah," she said, smiling at the memory. "You were drunk."

He smiled too. "We all were. Remember we went up to the Lincoln Memorial? And Sam started reading the walls and getting all maudlin because he'd never write a speech that good."

"And Toby took him home or…somewhere. To get more beer, maybe."

"Yeah, to console him for not having written the Gettysburg Address."

Despite everything, she laughed quietly. So did he, looking away out over the Mall and up toward the distant monument. "We sat on the steps," he said quietly, "for ages. It was freezing."

She remembered it, as vivid as yesterday. The ice in the air, the thrill in her blood. "I didn't want to go home," she confessed. "It felt so amazing to be there, to be in this city, just weeks away from going to work in the White House and being-" With you, she'd wanted to say. "It was an amazing time."

"The best." He smiled a small, awkward smile. "That night? I really… I really, really wanted to kiss you."

There was an ache, right in the centre of her chest; regret, loss, love, hope. "I know," she said at last. "I really wanted you to."

He turned to look at her. "You did?"

"You didn't know?"

His eyes betrayed him; he'd known as well as she had, but they'd both been locked into the denial game. "Sometimes," he said carefully, "I wonder what would have happened if I had."

"It wouldn't have worked," she said, smiling at the crestfallen look in his eyes. "I was… I idolized you back then, Josh. I thought you were the most heroic man in the whole world, my personal saviour sent to rescue me from the mess I'd made of my life. I'd have worshiped you, and in six months you'd have hated me."

"I wouldn't," he protested. "I'd have-"

"You'd have worked late every night, never returned my calls, and waited for me to dump you. I've seen you do it enough times." She smiled, but the memory of their tryst earlier in the evening made it awkward. Looking away, back out over the Mall, she let the smile fade and said, "Can we just forget tonight happened? It doesn't need to be a thing."

There was a long pause before he cautiously said, "It kinda is though, isn't it?"

Donna swallowed hard, and for the first time since he'd bolted from the room she wondered if she'd just lost herself her job. She shivered, and not just from the cold; the first edges of panic were fluttering in her mind. "Can't we just forget it happened? It's was just-"

"I don't want to forget it," he said, the sudden heat in his voice dragging her back to him. But he wasn't looking at her, he was staring out into the night. "I don't want to forget it, Donna. That's-" He turned, and their gaze collided like a high speed crash. His eyes were dark, glittering in the city lights, and everything she felt she saw mirrored there. Confusion, hope, exhaustion, desire; a sweet, suffocating flood of emotion. She couldn't look away, couldn't breathe. Didn't want to. "I don't even know who we are anymore," he said at last, his voice the only sound in the world. "We used to have a rhythm, a pace, we used to be something, but now I don't know. I just…" The expression in his eyes softened, pulling her to him even though they were so far apart. "All I know," he said, "is that nothing seems to work without you."

She felt hot tears in her eyes, a cold breeze against her arms, and didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Are you talking about the coffee machine?" she said, half joking and beginning to shake. Emotion or cold, she couldn't tell anymore.

Josh laughed warmly, quietly. And then he looked at her in surprise. "You're shivering! Donna - you don't have a coat on!" In two seconds he'd taken off his jacket, scooted across the bench and wrapped it around her shoulders. It felt warm, and heavy, and wonderfully masculine, and his arm lingered around her shoulders just long enough for her to meet his eyes and tentatively lean into him. With a hesitant smile he tightened his hold and pulled her close.

She could hardly breathe through the sweet pain in her chest and, just like that night so many years ago, she never wanted to go home. But then he gave a little involuntary shiver and she realised he was just in his shirtsleeves. Smiling, she toyed with the end of his undone tie, where it lay against his chest, the silk warm between her fingers. "A little cold for the Tony Bennett thing?"

"I'm not cold," he lied. "I'm hardened. We Connecticut men know all about the cold."

After a beat she said, "Want to go inside?"

"Hell yeah."

She smiled as she stood up, clutching his jacked around herself. His arm dropped from her shoulder but his hand brushed against hers as they started to walk - once, twice, three time's the charm. She slipped her fingers through his, glanced over and saw him smiling back at her like he was twelve years old. "So?" he asked, deflecting the moment with practiced ease, "back to the party?"

There was just enough doubt in his voice to confirm that, like her, it was about the last thing he wanted to do. "Actually," she said, "I could do with some real food."

"Sounds good. Um… Got any ideas?"

She did, actually. A bold, daring - one might even say brazen - idea. "I was thinking 'The Magic Wok'?"

He looked over, his mind working in tandem with hers - the way it always did. "They only do take out."

"This is true."

A small, nervous, delighted smile touched his lips. "You want to…?" His eyebrows shot up. "My place is closest."

Her own smile, she knew, was equally delighted and twice as nervous. "Yes," she said. "Yes it is."

Josh just grinned at her for a long moment, then stuck out his arm and yelled, "Cab!"

***

It was dark when Donna woke, the still, silent hours long before dawn. She stretched out, lazy and relaxed, her whole body still humming from the way he'd touched her, held her, loved her. Nothing in her prior experience had prepared her for it, for the passion or for the way she'd lost herself in him so completely. It would have been terrifying if he hadn't made her feel so completely safe - like throwing herself off a cliff in the certain knowledge that she was falling into paradise.

It had been the most spiritual experience of her whole life, transforming in its intensity. She'd never felt anything like it and yet it had seemed so natural, as if they'd been dancing this dance forever. And perhaps they had, because they'd seemed to know each other like enduring lovers. No fumbling, no awkwardness, no uncertainty. From the moment he'd pressed his lips against hers, doubt had fled and all that was left was the dance as old and familiar as time itself.

Smiling into the darkness, relishing the unfamiliar room and the softness of the sheets against her bare skin, Donna rolled over and reached for him. Which was when she realised he was gone.

With a flutter of unease, she sat up. The apartment was dark, but from the living room she could see shadows cast by the street lights outside and realised that the curtains were open. Her unease dissipated, replaced by a tender ache. As much as everything had changed, there were some parts of him she still couldn't reach. And this was one of them.

The air was cool as she slipped out of bed. She had nothing to put on but her evening dress, and she certainly wasn't going to struggle into that. So she grabbed one of Josh's t-shirts, discarded on a nearby chair, and pulled it on. It smelled of him and that made her smile as she walked quietly out of the bedroom. But she stopped in the doorway when she saw him standing at the window, gazing out into the restless city.

Brooding.

The light cast his face and chest in unusual shadows, and she wondered that he wasn't cold. Feeling a swell of tenderness, she padded silently across the living room and slipped her arms around him, resting her chin against his shoulder. He didn't jump - perhaps she hadn't been so silent after all - but simply covered her arms with his own and pulled her closer. Donna didn't speak, relishing his warmth and the scent of his skin, and marvelled that they were here. After so long, they'd actually reached this point. His head tipped slightly, leaning against hers, and she could feel his weariness as if it were her own. "Couldn't sleep?" she asked softly, letting her thumb lightly caress the muscles of his stomach.

He sighed and his hands tightened on her arms. "Don't know why, after tonight. I should be sleeping like a baby."

She pressed a kiss against his shoulder. "It's because of your big, dark secret."

He smiled slightly. "My big, dark secret?"

"It's the thing no one knows about - except me."

The smile grew. "If you're going to tell me I'm a vampire then-"

"Your big, dark secret, Josh, is that you don't think you're good enough and that you're terrified you're going to be found out."

He pulled out of her embrace, turning so he could see her face. "I don't think-"

"It's why you worked twice as hard as anyone at Yale, why you work twice as hard at everything you do, Josh." She smiled and slipped her arms back around him, sighing happily as pulled her close again. "You think I don't know everything about you?"

"I really screwed up, Donna, with the Illinois thing…"

"Everyone makes mistakes, Josh. You're good, but you're not God."

He laughed softly. "That's what Leo said."

"Leo is a very wise man."

His arms tightened around her and she could feel the tension in the play of his muscles. "It's just that everyone knows," he said bitterly. "I feel like everyone knows I'm out of my depth, that I'm this big fraud that Leo's protecting just because he knew my father and he feels sorry for me."

Donna lifted her head and looked at him. "Do you care what they think?"

"No." The belligerence lasted all of two seconds. "Maybe. I don't know."

"You know what I think?"

"Does it involve…panty-waists?"

His smirk had an acidic twist tonight, but Donna ignored it. "I think you're heroic," she said, for once hoping to stoke his fragile ego. "You dragged Santos to this point by the scruff of his neck because you wouldn't accept second best, and there's no one else who could have done that, Josh. No one else would have even tried."

His smile faded, like the embers of a dying fire, damped out by so much doubt it made her heart ache. "Toby thinks I'm wrong. He thinks Santos isn't Presidential enough, and after tonight…" Josh blew out a soft breath. "He sent Leo, Donna. He sent Leo to fire me. Jed Bartlet would never have done that."

"No," she agreed, not letting her gaze waiver for a second, "but Jed Bartlet lied to you, to the country. He hid his MS and it almost destroyed everything you'd worked so hard for. No one's perfect, Josh. We do the best with what we've got."

For a moment he just stared at her, and then his eyes began to smile again. "See? This, right here, is why I love you so much."

I love you…

Those three, as yet unuttered words fell so naturally from his lips that Donna wanted to weep for joy. He must have seen it in her eyes, because his own smile faded into an earnest look. "I do love you," he said seriously,"more than anything, Donna."

She'd known it, felt it, but to hear him say it at last… Her heart was too full, it was overflowing, washing her free of any remaining doubts. "I love you too," she smiled. "For so long, Josh, it feels like forever."

Nothing moved, time didn't pass, no one drew breath. The whole world was concentrated in the few inches of supercharged air between them, in the searing look that melted them both. And then his lips moved, tracing the shape of her name in a soundless whisper, before his eyes fluttered shut and he kissed her. "Forever," Josh murmured against her lips. "Forever…"

Donna smiled and, reluctantly, pulled back far enough to see his face. He looked beautiful, she thought, in the soft streetlights - strong, vulnerable, sweet, and lovable. Just Josh, with all his faults and failings and wonderful strengths and talents. She loved him completely, with everything she was and would ever be. "Come back to bed," she whispered, tugging on his hand. "You need to sleep."

He trailed after her, his smile irresistible. "I don't want to sleep."

"Just come back to bed."

And as they fell into the soft sheets, and into each other once more, Donna realised that this thing they had, this overwhelming, life-changing thing, was stronger than either of them. It had drawn them together from the first day they met, dragging them into a compulsive, impetuous orbit around each other. Circumstances had tried to keep them apart, years of denial and frustration had hurt them both, but in the end nothing could have prevented this moment. It was as inevitable as the rise of the sun and the turning of the seasons. They were meant to be together, always had been, and this blaze of passion was forging them anew. Apart they'd been lost, lonely and uncertain. Together, they were strong. Together, they were invincible.

And, really, who needed sleep anyway?


End file.
